


Let Me Be Your New Addiction

by onesillygoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bossy Dean, Bottom Dean, Choking, Cutting, Established Relationship, Feelings, Gore, Halloween time fic, Horror, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Sam, Topping from the Bottom, possible triggers, season 5, serious blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8201596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onesillygoose/pseuds/onesillygoose
Summary: Dean is pissed at Sam for going on a demon blood binge, and Sam just isn't himself after Famine.Takes place during 'My Bloody Valentine'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Happy October to everyone!
> 
> So first I'd just like to say that I've never written anything like this before. It's pretty dark and kind of fucked up, but I'm into it. 
> 
> I've had this fic half done for a while now and I thought there was no better reason to finish it than to use it to kick off my favorite time of year! It's a perfect Halloween season fic and I am a FREAK when it comes to Halloween. Again, it is really dark, and I'm sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable, so be sure you guys read the tags!
> 
> Now, I know this is a Supernatural fic, but unfortunately it does not mean that I will posting any more of 'Time Goes On'. I actually really struggled just to finish this fic and it's reasonably short. I will get back to it eventually, I swear, but right now I'm really invested in 'To See Through You' and I need to finish up with that before I do anything else.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and Happy Halloween!

Dean is tense, as is the air in the car as they drive in silence to the next town. They’ve already driven a hundred miles, and Dean wants to get at least another two hundred before they stop for the night. He has a plan, but he doesn’t have it in him to drive all the way back to Bobby’s tonight.

Everything that had happened with famine left him with more than just a bad taste in his mouth. He’s coming to terms with the fact that everyone around him has, or will let him down. And he’s trying to hold it together. He really is, but… he’s empty. He has nothing left. Famine had even said so himself.

He was happy going to hell for Sam. It meant he had saved the one good thing in his life. And then Ruby had gotten her bitch claws into him and dug in deep. Tainted him, just that much more. Sam isn’t evil. Not really. Dean knows that. His brother is too pure- hearted to ever do anything seriously malicious. But he’s broken his promises again and again, and Dean can only take so much. It’s killing him.

Sam can feel his disappointment. Dean doesn’t even have to look at him to know better. He can see out of the corner of his eye the way Sam’s shoulders hunch, the set of his jaw; not angry, but defensive. And there’s the slightest hint of red still staining Sam’s mouth. Demon blood. And he’d drank plenty of it. He tries to keep from unleashing his anger on Sam. It won’t do any good now.

They don’t make it quite as far as Dean wanted. His skin feels tight and his fingers ache from gripping the steering wheel so hard. All he can smell is rotting meat and death and decay and he needs to shower and get Sam cleaned up, and fuck. When did everything in his life get so fucked up?

He checks them in, doesn’t talk to Sam, doesn’t look at him, doesn't even ask Sam if he's okay with stopping. Sam stays in the car, he knows better than to invade on Dean’s space right now. Dean comes back and grabs his bag, and Sam knows that’s his cue to follow.

Dean enters their room first and does his routine sweep. Just another shitty motel room. Just another horrible fucking night. Another notch on the bed post of the hell that is their lives.

Sam enters the room slowly, hesitantly. He’s surprisingly quiet and timid for a six-foot-four sasquatch. He’s nervous, and Dean doesn’t care. So he throws his shit on the bed- it’s muscle memory as he slides the knife under his pillow- and then he gets in the shower.

When he gets out, Sam is sitting on his bed, right next to Dean’s duffle. He’s looking at Dean, eyes in full puppy dog mode. Dean refuses to give him attention, but he can feel it nonetheless. He simply picks up his bag and moves it to the other bed, not even acknowledging that Sam exists.

“Dean?” Sam calls to him softly.

Dean tosses his bag and turns to Sam. He tried so hard to keep it bottled up, and with just that one broken syllable from Sam, Dean feels like he’s falling apart.

“Why, Sammy? Just explain it to me. How could you do that? How could you go back on your word _again_? You promised me. You _swore_.”

Sam stands, and he’s still moving slowly, trying to make himself small, and he may have a good four inches on Dean, but he’ll always be the little brother. Dean will never be able to see him as anything other than the trusting little boy that was thrust into his arms for him to protect.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry. God, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean to. I tried so hard. I didn’t want to. But it hurt. It hurt when I could smell it and it was right there. The most terrible ache in my stomach. And famine… Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“I want you away from that stuff, Sammy. It’s poison. I told you from the start that it was dangerous. The _angels_ told you. You _promised_ me.” Dean doesn’t even have it in him to be angry right now. He’s heartbroken.

“I know, Dean. And I won’t do it again. I swear. Just give me one more chance. I don’t ever want to let you down. I’d die before I did something to intentionally hurt you. But I could stop the urge, Dean. I wasn’t strong enough. It was eating at me from the inside out.”

Dean nods. Not because he understands, the thought of intentionally ingesting demon blood is enough to make his stomach turn. And he’s just not capable of feeling an urge for anything the way Sam and Cas and the other people in the town had felt. Not anymore. But he believes Sam. Believes that Sam doesn’t want to let him down. He does believe Sam, but he isn’t sure that he trusts Sam anymore.

“I won’t let you get hooked again. If you need blood, you take it from me. Fuck Ruby and any other demon. You’re done with that shit. No more demon blood benders. Do you understand me? From now on, you let me be your new addiction.”

Dean walks back to the bed he had originally claimed as his and slides his hand under the pillow, gripping his knife and walking back to Sam. He’s rolling up his sleeve before Sam even registers what’s going on.

“D-Dean…," Sam stutters, swallows, "Dean, what are you doing?”

Sam watches, completely mesmerized as the shining, cold steel cuts across Dean’s smooth and warm forearm, just beneath the crease of his elbow. His breath hitches a little when the blood begins to rush to the surface of Dean’s skin, pooling before running in a solid line down to his wrist. With Sam’s heightened senses he can smell it. The metallic tang with the underlying scent that is Dean. Sam’s body has been buzzing from the demon blood, but now his nerve endings are firing off for a completely different reason.

Dean drags his eyes up from his arm and locks them onto Sam, his gaze boring into Sam’s. His pupils are slightly dilated from the rush of adrenaline and endorphins that his body is producing, and it’s hot and intense and Sam chokes on his breath because of how fast his dick is hardening.

“You will only feed from me now.” Dean holds out his arm in offering to Sam. “Take what you need, Sammy. I’m yours.”

Sam doesn’t even think before he surges forward and grabs Dean’s arm, chasing the trail of blood with his tongue that is running down the length of Dean’s forearm, and up to where the cut is still open and flowing beautifully for him. It doesn’t have the same effect on him as demon blood, but it’s Dean, and he’s offering himself, and it’s so surreal that it does more for him than any amount of demon blood ever could.

His body is acting before his brain can react, and he’s pushing Dean backward onto the bed where he falls flat on his back less than gracefully. But Dean can’t do much of anything before Sam is on top of him, pressing him down with his entire weight. He grips Dean’s arm as if it could be his salvation, and attaches his mouth directly to the wound. He sucks until he has a mouth full and swallows, reveling in the warm thickness of it.

He can’t keep himself away longer than a few seconds, and then his mouth is back on Dean’s skin. He probes the serrated edges of the flesh with his tongue, opening the cut wider, making Dean hiss. Sam can feel every pulse, every rush of blood as it flow from under Dean’s skin and into his mouth and it’s exquisite. His cock throbs in time with it, and he can’t stop himself from grinding onto Dean’s thigh.

“Sam.” Dean sighs, throwing his head back onto his pillow. “Fuck, Sam.”

It’s the first thing Dean’s said since Sam’s gone ravenous. It’s a throaty moan that Sam can feel throughout Dean’s entire body. Throughout every point their bodies are touching. He can feel it in Dean’s _blood_.

With his enhanced strength, it doesn’t take much for Sam to rip Dean’s clothes off. They’re in shreds on the floor within a matter of seconds, leaving Dean bare and absolutely stunning for Sam to stare at. He’s fully exposed to Sam and Sam loves it. He can hear Dean’s pulse, smell his arousal, feel his warmth. And he lets his eyes rake over every bit of his older brother, taking his sweet time.

After taking in his fill of all of the miles of beautiful, tanned, freckled skin that is Dean, he finally meets Dean’s eyes. They’re the deepest shade of jade he’s ever seen, brought out by the saucer of onyx that his pupils have become. His cheeks are flushed, and his mouth is bitten to such a sinful shade of red that it gives Sam the filthiest idea.

“Jesus, Sammy. Your mouth is covered in blood like you’re wearing some cheap lip gloss or somethin’. Fucking all over. Wanna lick it off. You’re fucking gorgeous, baby boy. And your eyes… usually you look so sweet. You look fucking insane. All huge and lust blown. You’re so hot like this, Sammy. Goddamn, I want you.”

Sam lunges at Dean’s throat, kissing and sucking at his pulse before making his way down Dean’s chest where he bites at a nipple. He goes back to Dean’s arm, lapping gently back and forth at the cut. The blood has slowed in its escape from Dean’s body, coagulating and becoming a slight trickle. Sam nibbles at it and nudges it again with his tongue, opening it back up until it suits him. He just can’t get enough of Dean.

Finally, he kisses Dean the way he wanted, smudging the scarlet liquid over Dean’s mouth, where he too now looks like he’s just put on lip gloss. Dean would be gagging at the taste and smell of his own blood, (too many bad memories associated with it) if it weren’t for the fact that Sam’s got his tongue in his mouth. He licks around Dean’s entire mouth, filling every crevice with the taste of his own blood.

Sam pulls back to stare at his handiwork. Dean’s mouth, neck and chest are now stained red-orange, as if Sam has painted him with his own life fluid. He’s a beautiful work of art, only on display for Sam’s private viewing. And something about seeing the masterpiece that his older brother, all blood caked and hard, has him wanting to fucking _wreck_ Dean until he’s _begging_ for him.

When Sam speaks his voice is rough and gravelly in a way he’s never heard before. Dark, smoky, and otherworldly almost.

“Fucking hell, Dean. You’re fucking beautiful. You are mine, aren’t you? Fucking marked you up to prove it. _Mine_.” He growls, and doesn’t miss the shiver that draws from his brother’s body.

As sudden as lightning, an idea sparks through Sam’s head. His mouth returns to Dean’s arm and he sucks deeply, pulling in a mouthful that makes Dean hiss once more and simultaneously thrust up against Sam.

Dean’s head is spinning. He isn’t sure if it’s from being so turned on, or if it’s the loss of blood.

Sam lowers his entire body down Dean’s, keeping eye contact with Dean the entire time. He purses his lips, letting the blood dribble out of his mouth and down Dean’s cock. Dean throws his head back again and moans so loudly that Sam is worried briefly that any demons that may have decided to come after them will have found them now. But he doesn’t care, and he dares any demon within a hundred miles to cross him now, while he has Dean pliant and laid out beneath him. So he just wraps his mouth around Dean and makes a vacuum tight seal before he begins sucking. Dean cries out and his hips buck up of their own volition. When Sam can only taste Dean’s skin and pre-cum, he pulls away.

Dean is trying to catch his breath, so his words come out chopped and barely audible.

“Godfuckingdammit, Sam. Fuck me! Please! Need you so bad, baby brother. Want you inside me _now_.”

Sam is stunned for a moment. He’s never topped. In fact, the discussion has never even come up between the two of them. Sure, Sam’s thought about it, it’s not that he isn’t happy bottoming to Dean, but the thought sometimes gets him so turned on that he can hardly breathe right. He never brought it up to Dean because he never considered it a possibility that Dean would even be remotely interested in. He knows Dean’s sure, though. Dean wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t absolutely positive, so Sam doesn’t bother asking if he’s sure.

He returns to Dean’s arm one final time, spitting the blood he collected into his hand, and lubing himself up as well as smearing some over Dean’s hole before gripping Dean’s biceps and thrusting in with all his force.

“Fuck! Sammy!”

It hurts. It hurts badly. Dean has only played with his hole a handful of times, but he wants this, and he _needs_ this, and he doesn’t care that his hips feel like they’re being ripped in two. The world is falling apart around them, and he can have this one moment. This one moment where he’s actually present and needy and so fucking hard for his little brother that the sting of being bored into by Sam’s rock hard dick doesn’t even matter. And Sam either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care that Dean’s in pain as he continues to thrust unrelentingly into Dean.

His hands slide down to grip Dean’s hips, yanking him down on his dick until he bottoms out inside Dean. There’s a growl that erupts from his chest at hearing the way Dean howls.

“S-Sammy,” Dean pleads, reaching out a hand for Sam.

Sam bends, kissing Dean on the mouth. It’s rough and messy and Sam feels blood drunk and dick stupid, and the kiss quickly falls apart. But Sam’s needs to taste Dean, so his mouth slides down Dean’s chin, nibbling at his jaw and then _biting_ into Dean’s neck as if he’s trying to blood from him there.

“S-Sammy,” Dean stutters again, running a hand through Sam’s hair, over his impressive shoulder blades and down his back.

Sam softens at that, begins licking and sucking instead of biting. Dean moans. He feels out of his mind with want, and he needs to come so badly, and everything about this hurts and he loves it because he can _feel_ something again.

“Sam! Oh fuck, Sam! You feel absolutely amazing inside me, baby boy. I need you to make me come. Wanna come so bad, Sammy. Just for you. And I wanna feel everything you got. Fill me up so I never have to be without you again.” Dean sobs.

Hearing that makes something come loose within Sam’s body, and he starts fucking Dean with such force it almost seems as though there’s animosity in it. Like he’s daring Dean’s body to deny him of Dean’s orgasm.

Dean is wailing and wraps one leg around Sam’s hip as the other lies limply at his side. He has both his hands on Sam’s back, nails digging in so ferociously that he’s afraid he’s broken the skin. Not that Sam would even care right now.

One of Sam’s hands presses against Dean’s throat, cupping and squeezing only the slightest bit to keep him still and needy below him as his other hand reaches down and pulls up Dean’s wounded arm to his lips. He bites again, opening the wound back up and drawing forth Dean’s blood in his mouth in flood of warm, liquid lust. Dean whines at the pain, but Sam just continues sucking, his hips driving into Dean and shoving Dean up the bed.

“Fuck, Sammy! Touch me! Please touch me!”

Sam finally relinquishes Dean’s arm, his mouth a mess of blood and spit. Dean’s arm falls uselessly at his side. It’s bleeding pretty heavily again, but he’s too fucked out to notice. He’s plenty wet with how hard he is right now and how good Sam is fucking him, but Sam spits the blood he’d had in his mouth into the hand that had been holding him, and he slicks it over Dean’s cock, jerking him fast and hard.

“Oh god, Sam! I gotta come, baby boy. You feel too fucking good. So good for me. So fucking hot.”

And Dean does, mixing his cum with the blood and spit that already coat Sam’s hand. He whimpers as his hole tightens around Sam with his release, once again making him aware of the stretch his body had to go through to accommodate Sam. But Sam is so big and he still feels so good inside Dean. He begins consciously constricting and releasing Sam’s dick as it pumps in and out of him.

“Come on, baby. You’ve been so good. I know how badly you need it, Sammy. Want you to come for me now. Come on, Sam. Give it to me. Let me feel it. Show them all that I’m yours.”

“Fuck! Dean! Mine! Oh fuck, Dean, Dean, Dean!” Sam cries as he releases inside Dean’s body, his hand squeezing Dean’s throat harder enough that Dean is struggling for air.

Dean can feel every throb of Sam’s dick, every spurt of cum that is pumped inside him as Sam’s hips continue to thrust in long and slow strokes. Sam’s other hand is still on his dick, and he’s starts jerking Dean quickly, and Dean twitches and writhes at the way it’s a stark comparison to the gentle, languid way Sam was stroking him just a moment before. But Sam doesn’t let up, and Dean is so sensitive that he’s biting into his lip. He comes again, and it’s painful and so, so good that he bites through his lip and gasps.

Dean’s vision goes black, but he feels when Sam releases his throat and his cock. He can feel that Sam is still slowly pumping inside him, an almost lazy movement of hips, tender and pleasant. And then he feels the kitten licks at his lip, a sort of apology as Sam laps up the blood there before he slips his tongue into Dean’s mouth for another hot and filthy kiss. It’s hard for Dean to focus for very long so that he can kiss back, and when the kiss breaks Sam rolls off of him.

Sam passes out, worn out from the multiple events of the day that have drained him of his energy. Dean can’t sleep, though. Can’t stop his mind from overworking itself until Dean feels nearly ready to knock himself unconscious. He’s ashamed. He’s ashamed of Sam and he’s scared for him, but he isn’t sure what else he can do to help. He feels sick to his stomach as he looks down at the dried blood on his body, making him feel sticky and claustrophobic. When did his life get to this point? He doesn’t regret what they’ve done. He loves Sam, and he loves every chance they get to be together like this. But it’s too much.

Dean is disgusted. With himself. With Sam. He finally gets up and decides he needs to clean up when he feels Sam’s cum start seeping from his hole, wetting the insides of his thighs.

He takes another shower, this one double the length of the first as he tries to scrub off not only the blood, but the shameful feeling of what just happened. His skin burns by the time he gets out, but there’s not a trace left on him of what they’ve done. At least, not physically. Dean avoids the mirror as he brushes his teeth for a full five minutes.

Sam is still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s so out of it that he’s snoring, and Dean can’t even remember the last time that happened. The apocalypse could happen right now, and Dean knows that Sam wouldn’t budge. He gets a wet washcloth, cleans Sam to the best of his abilities, and then dresses Sam with extreme difficulty. Then he grabs his keys, packs up the Impala with their bags, and then goes back for Sam.

It’s a bitch and a half carrying him out the door and getting him loaded into the passenger seat, but he manages. And he’ll have Cas help him unload his little brother when they get to Bobby’s.

Maybe he should feel bad that he’s taking Sam in the middle of the night without his little brother’s consent to stick him in a room where he’ll experience some of the worst pain of his life as Sam’s body tries to rid itself of the demon blood. But Dean’s doing this for Sam’s own good. He won’t let his brother become one of the very creatures that is trying to bring about the demise of their world. Sam’ll get clean. They’ll get back to doing what they do. They’ll stop Lucifer with the help of their biggest asset; Cas himself said he was willing to die for the sake of their mission. So right now Dean doesn’t feel bad. He doesn’t feel guilt, or regret, or disappointment or any of those things. He feels overwhelmed, he feels tired, and he feels numb again.

He doesn’t bother checking out. He’d only paid through tomorrow morning, and when the clerk comes around to harass them to either leave, or pay up, they’ll have been long gone.

Dean pulls out of the parking lot and does twenty over the speed limit all the way to Bobby’s. The moonlit black top stretching out before him as a beacon of either hope, or a sign of their imminent downfall.


End file.
